#i really do want to find some better words to describe this i really struggle to and i want to write something from the tardis' pov

[threefandomsinatrenchcoat]

I think we should worry less about labels, in general. I get that they can be very helpful and comforting to some people and for very quickly communicating the gist of things, they're quite good.

When I want someone to just understand that I like multiple genders with a tendency to prefer one over another, "I'm bisexual" gets the job done a lot quicker than describing the whole situation, everyone I've ever found attractive and who out of these people I'd actually sleep with.

But I feel like we've gotten really caught up in this way of thinking that dictates that every unique human experience needs a name and it's really confusing and limiting.

If a straight person finds someone of the same gender/sex attractive just once, they're suddenly confused and rattled, because they don't know what this means for their identity. Are they still straight?

A lot of terms are from a time when sexuality was better understood than gender and thus, the definitions of terms were still based on a gender binary. Now that this isn't the case anymore, we're struggling to say who can and can't be [label].

Can trans men be lesbians? Where do intersex people fall in this? Are nonbinary people trans, because being trans is just being not cis, or can they not be trans, because being trans has to do with transitioning? But not all mtf and ftm trans people transition either, and they're still valid, so-

Do you see what I mean? The definitions are so imprecise and we keep arguing about them, which is fucking pointless. It's not getting us anywhere. We shouldn't be infighting at all, but especially not at a time like this, when many of us are in peril and we're all in this together.

Who cares about these fucking definitions, man? Does it matter if I'm aro or just have commitment issues so big I can't imagine having a relationship? The result is the same. I'm not interested in a romantic relationship. Why am I worrying about whether a label fits me rather than thinking about how this part of my identity affects my life? Does it matter if chopping my tits off makes me trans? The result is the same, I look and feel different.

I get wanting to find out more about yourself and wanting to put everything in neat little boxes and having tools and words to find people just like you to share your experiences, support and advice with, I truly do, but I feel like we're really pulling the noose tighter around our own necks by focusing more on labels than on the fact that we're all human, we all have things in common as well as differences, and we're all too complex to describe with a single word per aspect of our identity.

You shouldn’t have to be trans to get any sex characteristic-related surgery. It’s not a limited resource. Plenty of cis men get implants and cis women get breast reductions. From Colby Gordon today and Leslie Feinberg in Transgender Warriors (1996).

[variousqueerthings]

the way i read the doctor's and the tardis' relationship is that it's impossible to describe outside of the tenets of queer theory obviously, but specifically functions to me (shockingly) within a paradigm of aroace concepts that shift slightly -- but not as much as other relationships the doctor has -- with each regeneration, and considering the tardis is a space-and-time-ship and the doctor is a being that changes their face upon near-death, yes it's alien, but it's also in highly familiar/human as a symbolic structure and as a deconstruction of what relationships are traditionally deemed worthwhile, by being incredibly difficult to describe, other than that it's the most long-lasting and important relationship in either of their existences

to try and begin to describe perhaps, the tardis is home and freedom and escape and travel companion and co-driver and machine and history and change and mystery and exploration and curiosity/joy at the universe and safe haven and nigh-unknowable godlike being that has chosen the doctor

the doctor is likewise these things, except for the last -- the doctor is knowable, the tardis knows this person (they know each other, but i think the tardis has the edge because the doctor acts in ways when alone in the tardis that nobody else would see, not to the same extent), and for all that the doctor is that long-lived and grapples with whatever is close to immortality but not quite, they're not so godlike in the end

where would the tardis go without the doctor, where would the doctor go without the tardis? whatever they are, is the story for me

[pencil-n-pen]

OVERWORKED

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

leon kennedy x fem! reader

summary: You’re still struggling with overworking. Leon shows you when it’s time to take a break.

master list | previous (not required but gives some context) next

cw: once again, female pronouns used but reader’s features are not described, some suggestive content, dom! leon much more heavily this time, very not subtle praise kink (use of good girl), pet names, tbh rating COULD be pg-13 but i don’t write nsfw so minors ur fine :) uhhhh non-sexual sub-space if you squint?

tags/tropes: once again hurt/comfort, cuddles, leon being touchy again (reader is just as touchy honestly) soft dom behavior (leon)

a/n: a little continued drabble for those of u who asked/liked the last one !! hope u like it @cherryandsugar <3

MY ELDEST DAUGHTERS WITH PRAISE KINKS MAKE SOME NOISE 🔥🔥🔥🗣️🗣️🗣️💯💯💯

｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ

You’re overworking again.

You don’t mean to, necessarily. It’s just always what you do. Work, work, work. It needs to get done, so you do it. No matter how tired you are, no matter how much you don’t want to do it. No matter how many tears get shed. It needs to get done. You have to do it. So you do it.

Leon’s been taking issue, with it though.

You’re not really sure what you are to each other, yet. He definitely finds you attractive —he tells you pretty much everyday, an almost overuse of words like hot, sexy, cute, amazing, and of course, his favorite; princess.

He occasionally comes over to the place you and a few other girls rent together and does his absolute best to be as distracting as possible. Sometimes he cooks, sometimes he gets touchy, sometimes he just sits on your bed and watches you work which is, in your opinion, by far the worst one.

When he’s not bothering you in the comfort of your own home, he’s sitting next to you in the couple classes you share, a distracting hand on your thigh that he squeezes when you get a question right— something that never fails to make you breathless and dizzy for a few minutes afterwards. Between the sight of his hand engulfing your thigh and the frequency of your correct answers, it’s a miracle you don’t asphyxiate during class.

You did come close, once. It was a week after what you’ve dubbed The Library Incident, and the professor had singled you out as one of his most consistent students when it came to turning in homework. Leon had leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and whispered, all low and rumbly:

“Good girl.”

You didn’t get a single thing out of the lecture for the rest of class.

(You’d then given him the silent treatment, but he made up for it by you sending you his rather extensive and detailed notes from the lesson with a single text: “Better learn to multitask, princess.”)

So yeah. He isn’t a huge fan of your studying habits. Something he’s made abundantly clear.

“When was the last time you got up?” He grumbles, walking into your room with your now full reusable water bottle. You’d abandoned it in the kitchen a few hours ago. He’s such a stickler about your water intake.

“Who are you, my mother?” You pause, looking up at the mischief in his eyes and the way his mouth is open, poised to say something, likely dirty. “Don’t answer that.”

You reach out with grabby hands towards your water bottle, which you know is filled with some delicious water combination, courtesy of Leon. Shit, he’s Pavlov-ing you into drinking water, isn’t he?

He rolls his eyes, handing you the bottle. “You know, you can make this exact same water yourself with the items in your fridge. Which I put there. For you. To use. Yourself.”

“You make it better,” You answer smoothly, ignoring his sarcasm. Ooooh. It’s minty strawberry today.

“Oh?” He says with a raised eyebrow, a signature Leon smirk on his lips. The same one he always gets when you admit to liking him in some way.

“You’re such an attention whore. Isn’t that why you came over here?”

“Ouch. So touchy,” He tuts, draping himself over your back and resting his chin on your head. “But no. I came over here to drag the lovely and beautiful and terribly stubbornly princess away from her desk because she’s overworking again.”

You tense. “I can’t, Leon. Not right now. I have to finish this.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“What happens if you don’t?”

“I get behind and then I can’t catch up and then I fail—“

“Woah, now,” He says, standing and spinning your desk chair so it faces him instead of your work. “None of that is going to happen if you take a break. We both know your work ethic is too good for that.”

You start worrying your lip between your teeth. “But—“

“Hey,” He says, a gentle, slow hand reaching out and brushing your lip away from your teeth. “None of that. Leave your lip alone.”

You wince. It’s a mindless action, the same way you pick at your hangnails and other parts of your skin when you’re stressed. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. Just don’t want my girl hurting herself more than she already is.”

You ignore the latter part of his sentence and focus on the first. “Your girl?”

“Yeah,” He says, tilting his head and looking down at you with a small smile on his face. “My girl.”

You look down at your hands, fidgeting with the hem of your sweatshirt. “I won’t be able to sleep or relax if I don’t finish this. It— I can’t.”

He takes the side of your face in his hand, thumb sweeping across your cheek and beneath your eyelid. “I know, baby. But you work too much.”

“But I have—“

“You have to, I know. I know you’re hardwired for independence and overworking. So how about this. Take a break, lie down in bed with me, and then finish only what you’ve already started.”

You start chewing on your lip again. “I—“

His fingers deftly move down to your jaw, grabbing it firm, thumb pressing on the edge of your lip and pulling it down, away from the merciless bite of your teeth. His grip leaves no room for argument, but you don’t feel frightened or scared. In fact, your stomach is doing flips at the careful, gentle control in the press of his hands and the fondness in his eyes.

“I know I phrased that very nicely, but this isn’t an argument, sweetheart. You need to rest. Your brain needs time to recharge. What happens if you get sick from all this working, huh?”

You decide now isn’t the time to bring up that you always work through every cold, flu, and fever you’ve ever had.

“Hey,” He leans down, catching your averted gaze. “Look at me.”

He could easily turn your head himself, his fingers still pressed against your jaw, but he doesn’t. He waits for you to muster up the strength to look over at him yourself, eyelashes fluttering.

His gaze is cool and deep when it meets yours. “I am not mad at you. I am not upset with you. I just want you to take care of yourself.”

His voice, gaining that low, rumbly edge when he ushers the words sends tingles up your spine. You sigh, letting the tension ease from your shoulders.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I’ll try harder.”

“You’re doing just fine, okay?” He pulls you up by your hands, hand leaving your face as he tugs you over to your bed. Once you’ve sat down, he reaches back towards your desk, grabbing your water bottle from your desk and putting it on your bedside table. “You just need a little help sometimes. Everybody does.”

He motions for you to scoot over and you oblige, immediately slotting into what’s become one of your usual positions: arms wrapped around his torso, head pillowed on his chest.

“There we go,” He mumbles, hand sliding under your shirt, intermittently squeezing the place his hands always seem to find: the squishy, vulnerable stretch of flesh in between the top of your hip and the bottom of your ribcage. He rolls the skin there in his hands, a pleased hum rumbling from his chest. “Such a good girl for me.”

You shudder, hiding your blush by pressing your face further into his chest. A tingle spreads from your spine to the rest of your body.

He chuckles. “Aw, you like that don’t you? Did the same thing last time. Is that all I have to do? Is that what you need, baby?”

A small whine rip’s itself from your throat before you manage to tamp it down. Embarrassed, you try and hide your face further.

“None of that, now. Come on, let me see that pretty face.”

You shift, rolling to basically lie on top of him, bracing your hands on either side of him to lift your head, a small frown on your face and a not-so-small flush across your face.

He smiles, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. “There she is,” He practically coos, “My pretty baby.”

“You’re baby-talking me.”

“Mhm,” He says, squeezing your cheeks. “You got a problem with it?”

“…No.”

“What was that?”

You drop back down, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your chin on his chest. “Shhh. I’m supposed to be resting.”

“Convenient that you’re listening to me now.”

“Shush.”

He grumbles, but doesn’t say anything more. He slips his hands under your shirt, palming the expanse of your skin. His fingers are hot where they press and linger, warmth spreading from the points of contact. You go limp in his hold, humming contentedly.

You’re not really sure how much time passes with the both of you like that— bodies pressed close, legs tangled together. It just feels so… nice.

You relax. You actually relax. A small part of you feels annoyed that Leon is your source of comfort and relaxation (muttered whispers in your brain whine about independence, about not relying on anyone else—) the bigger, louder part of you is so overwhelmed with how nice it feels to just… not worry. Even for a little bit. In moments like this your brain goes pleasantly blank: Leon will take care of it. You don’t have to worry, because Leon will take care of it.

The stretches of time you spend in what you’ve mentally dubbed Limbo have started getting longer. At first, you’d last five, maybe ten minutes before your brain would kick into high gear again; worries and concerns flooding your brain so quickly you usually jolt straight up.

But now? It’s easy to slip into it. To let yourself take a mental break. Check out from life for a half hour or so. And when you’re ready to get back to work, you do just that- usually a lot calmer than before Leon came around.

It’s addicting. It’s dangerous.

“How long has it been.”

“Five minutes.”

You blink your eyes open, frowning. “It has not been five minutes,” You reach for your bedside table, snatching your phone off and checking the time. “Liar. It’s been thirty minutes.”

“Is it so wrong to want to lay in bed and hold my princess?”

“It is when the princess has work to do.” You grumble, sitting off and rolling off the bed with a thud.

“It’s so unnerving when you do that. Doesn’t it hurt?”

“No,” You say, hauling yourself to your feet. “It’s fun.”

“I don’t see how sustaining bodily injury is fun.”

“You wouldn’t get it,” You say, waving a hand in dismissal.

Loud shuffling and the thump of Leon climbing to his feet has you looking back. “You’re leaving?”

You can’t quite keep the desperation out of your tone.

He looks at you, surprised. “Usually you don’t like it when I stay while you work.”

“Yes,” You say, cheeks burning. “Um. Yeah. Right yeah. I have work to do. So.”

“Princess,” He says, his voice low and teasing, “You want me to stay?”

“No, no I have to work—“

“Uh-uh,” He says, crossing the room to stand in front of you, arms folded. “No lying. Do you want me to stay?”

You look down at your sock-clad feet. “Please?”

“Aw, well how could I say no to that,” He leans down, pressing a quick kiss to the crown of your head. “Finish your work. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

“…Can we go get slushies when I’m done?”

“Of course, baby.”

You finish your work in record time.

˙⋆✮

[sister-lucifer]

Eager Hands On Soft Flesh

Ticci Toby x Chubby!Transmasc!Reader 

My half of a trade with @pompeiisystem !

Genre: Smut

Summary: After you let slip that you’ve got your fair share of insecurities about your body, Toby simply can’t pass up the opportunity to appreciate every bit of you. 

Content/Warnings: Body worship, Reader’s body is focused on but I specifically chose NOT to use the word “fat,” Reader is insecure about their weight but Toby is there for reassurance, fucking against the kitchen counter, unprotected penis in trans masc vagina sex, fingering, oral sex (reader receiving), messy pussy eating, cumming inside, praise, use of “cunt,” “pussy,” and similar variations to describe Reader’s genitalia, Toby has a dick piercing but it’s only briefly mentioned 

“Toby, be honest, do you think this outfit would look better if I…you know, lost some weight?”

The sudden lurch of his body followed by sputtering and coughing as he chokes on his drink makes you jump. Your eyes widen a bit as you watch him struggle to regain his composure, wiping his mouth and trying not to spit. His tongue clicks involuntary, neck jerking in all directions as he tries to process what he’s just heard. 

“Wh— W-What the hell are you t-talkin’ about?” He stammers, speaking through the discomfort of off brand soda in his windpipe. 

“I just mean…you know,” You reply, suddenly feeling sheepish as you look down at the crimson sweater keeping snug against your top half, “I was just thinking…maybe I should—“ 

“Did I s-say something?” Toby says quickly. He rises from where he was sitting at the kitchen table, wiping his chin with his sleeve one last time. “Did I m-make you—shhhrk!—make you— m-make you think that you h-had to?” 

“Oh no, of course not!” You’re fast to reply, gently putting your hands on his arms and giving a small squeeze. “No, no, it’s not you at all, I promise. I was just thinking—“ 

“W-Well you shouldn’t d-do that anymore.” 

You sigh softly, moving your hands down go grasp his. You run your thumbs over his knuckles as his fingers tense and twitch despite his best efforts to hold onto you, looking up at him through your lashes. 

“Toby, come on, I didn’t mean anything bad about you. I’m just saying…I want you to be honest with me, that’s all.”

You look down at yourself, at the knit sweater and jeans you’ve put on. They’re comfortable, yes, but there’s something about the way you look in them that just doesn’t add up. You shouldn’t have expected to look exactly like the model on the website, really. You didn’t think you did. 

You’re starting to feel foolish for spending your money on this. It was silly, really, to be so excited about something as simple as a cute sweater, but at the time you thought you couldn’t live without it. You have plenty of other perfectly good outfits in your closet. Really, what reason did you have to think— 

You gasp softly when Toby suddenly pulls you in, ripping you from your thoughts with hands on your waist, gently grabbing at your love handles and pushing you back against the counter. His lips find your neck in a split second.

You moan softly, the sensation surprising but not unpleasant. You grasp at the back of his sweatshirt with one hand and run your fingers through his hair with the other. He groans under his breath when you tug just a bit.

“Please, baby,” He whispers against your skin, “P-Please, let me love on y-you just a-a bit…” 

“Toby, what are you—“ 

“Nothing, baby, I-I’m not doing a-anything…Just l-let me…”

Your cheeks are getting hot fast. You make no effort to push him away, but you can’t help getting flustered. 

“Toby, c’mon, you don’t have to do all this…” 

“I-I want to, though,” He says quickly, starting to nip and suck at your neck between kisses, “I’m not v-vvv-very good with words, I-I…I just—j-just wanna show you—shhh!—s-show you what you f-feel like…to m-me…” 

He pauses with a sigh, pulling back slowly. He looks up at you almost hesitantly, an expression you rarely see on his face. He’s always the first to act on an impulse, rarely ever thinking twice about anything; what’s slowing him down now? 

“…i-if you’ll let me, I-I mean.” 

The words come out far too gentle for Toby, and it makes you melt against him a bit. He’s always so eager to get his hands on your body, but something in him is sensing something unsure in you. You look back into the mossy color of his hazel eyes with contemplation. 

You can’t stop the gentle smile that spreads over your face. 

You pull him down to give him a slow kiss, and he happily returns the gesture. When you pull back again, there’s no hiding the anticipation on his face as he awaits your answer.

“…Of course, Toby.”

He takes only a split second to process the words before suddenly he’s roughly suckling and nipping at the flesh of your neck. You yelp in surprise, but not discomfort. You bite your lip as you grip his hair, trying to keep him against you. 

His hands freely wander your body, moving up and down your sides before slipping beneath your sweater. You suck in a breath when he gives an affectionate squeeze to your love handles, fingers greedily grabbing at the warmth beneath your skin. He groans as he feels you, entire body shuddering at the sensation of you beneath his hands. 

He moves so quickly, as if he’s worried you’ll disappear at any moment, like some invisible clock is counting down and the moment is reaches zero you’ll fade away. He grabs at you and sucks at your neck like he’s feeding on you, like your body heat is the only thing sustaining him. He needs you, and you can feel it in every touch. 

He pushes your sweater up to your chest before hands slide down towards the waistband of your jeans. Twitching fingertips fiddle with the button and then the fly, yanking down the zipper with such speed you were worried it would break. He pulls the jeans down around your ankles, not bothering to pull them off before moving on to your underwear.

He looks up at you, fingers tapping anxiously at the waistband. He licks his dry lips, mouthing a silent ‘Can I?’

“Yes, yes, please,” You reply without hesitation, nodding quickly. You gasp softly when he tugs your underwear down to your knees, exposing your now soaked pussy to the cool air and making you shudder. He can’t stop the breathy moan that slips from his lips at the sight. 

“S-So fucking beautiful…” He mutters through crooked teeth as he lowers himself slowly. Normally he would be eager to drop to his knees and service you, but just this once he’s taking his time. He’s methodical as he leaves a warm trail of kisses down your belly, letting his lips linger for a long few seconds before he moves down just a bit more. You watch with bated breath as he makes his way down until there’s no further to go. 

“…You know I-I love this-sss-s pretty tummy, don’t you?” He mumbles against your skin, looking up into your eyes. Your heart skips a bit when you nod. He doesn’t seem satisfied.

“Say it.”

“…I…I know, Toby.”

One corner of his mouth briefly quirks up into a smirk before an involuntary jerk of his neck and scrunching of his nose pulls it back down again..

He pauses then, eyes widening slightly with something you can only describe as admiration as his eyes trail down to your sweet cunt, wetting his lips on instinct.

You don’t have a second to wonder what he’s doing before suddenly his warm mouth engulfs your cunt. In a split second it seems all semblance of patience has left his body. You cry out, throwing your head back as your back arches. You instinctively push your hips against him, grinding into his mouth.

“T-Toby—!” 

Your fingers find his untamed thatch of brown hair in an instant, gripping tightly just how he likes. He moans as you call out his name, his voice sending vibrations through your cunt. He’s an excitable, messy eater, lapping at your cunt with need and not bothering to try and hide the wet squelching sounds his mouth makes as his tongue slides in an out of you, lips curling around the mound of your pussy and the tip of his crooked nose bumping your swollen clit. 

“Fuck…mmh…” He groans under his breath, not once losing contact or pulling away, “Y-You have no idea how m-much— m-mumble, mumble— much I-I love this boycunt…t-tastes sooo, s-so— so sweet…could just…just— j-just eat it for hours…”

He’s slurring his words already, speech messy and scattered at the words carelessly flow between his lips and down his chin like water over the edge of a cliff. His mouth is already soaking, drool leaking from his mouth and gash combined with your slick arousal. 

You squeal when you feel his two of his fingers prod at your entrance, anxiously pushing through and wasting no time reaching as deep as they can. Your entire body tenses and your back arches involuntarily against the counter as his digits twitch inside of you, slipping in and out at an excited pace. 

“C-Careful, Toby,” You stammer. He gives only a quick nod in reply before pushing in a third finger, the tip of his tongue now flicking at your clit. A thick mixture of his own spit and the juices leaking from your cunt is dripping down his chin and running down his neck. 

The hand not nestled in his hair is bracing you against the counter, gripping the marble hard as you struggle to keep yourself steady. You’re resisting the urge to just collapse with each shockwave Toby’s tongue and fingers send through your throbbing pussy. His free hand is grabbing at your sides and hips, half trying to keep you up and half groping you for his own pleasure. He spreads his fingers out inside of you, stretching you as much as he can as he readies you to take his cock.

When he finally pulls away you’re struggling to breathe, chest heaving with heavy gasps as you recover. He stands back up to his full height, towering over you and not even bothering to wipe his mouth before he captures your lips in a heated kiss. You could care less about the feeling of your own viscous arousal against your lips; there’s no room for disgust in your lust-filled brain. 

Toby’s panting as well when he pulls away, licking his lips before speaking.

“You s-sss-see how sweet you t-taste?”

You mimic his gesture, tongue darting out to lick over your own lips. You shyly nod, and a crooked smile spreads across his face. 

“C’mon, b-bend over f’me,” He says, giving your side an encouraging pat.

You happily comply, laying yourself over the counter and arching your back a bit. You shiver at the familiar sound of his belt unbuckling, then his fly coming down, and then that wonderful sigh of relief he lets out when he pushes down his jeans and boxers in one go. Not even a second later his tip is pressing against your cunt. 

He leans over you, nuzzling into your neck and wrapping his arms around your middle. 

“You ready?” He whispers, and you nod without thinking. 

He immediately pushes inside of you, groaning into your ear as you tense, nails digging into the flesh of your palm as his cock stretches you. The bulbous head manages to bully its way into your cunt, and you can feel the veins on his shaft as they brush against your walls. The crooked Prince Albert piercing adoring his tip scrapes against your cervix and pulls a drawn out moan from your glistening lips. 

Toby curses to himself as he bottoms out, finally pushing in as far as he can go. You can feel his cock twitching with need inside of you as it acclimates to your tight hole. He’s clinging to you like his life depends on it, fingers pressing into the ample flesh of your soft tummy and sides. 

A choked noise claws its way out of your throat as he slowly pulls back, your cunt squelching and dripping as his cock recedes to the head, pausing for a moment before pushing back in. You cry out with a broken call of his name, your plump body pushed hard into the counter that’s currently keeping you from collapsing into a heap on the floor beneath your lover. 

Toby’s lanky body practically engulfs yours as he ruts into you over and over again, slowly but surely getting faster with each thrust as he faces less and less resistance from your pussy, the slick canal gradually being molded to the shape of his cock. He’s huffing and moaning in your ear, not at all shy or ashamed to be vocal for you. 

“Nngh…I-I don’t think I’ll—Fuck! Shit!—I’ll ever— e-ev-vvv-ver get used to t-this perfect fff-fuckin’ boycunt…Goddamn…!” 

He’s grabbing all over your body, hands moving feverishly between your chest and stomach and hips as he squeezes every inch of hot skin he can find. 

“Sooo fucking h-handsome,” He sighs in your ear, “I’m s-so fucking lucky that I-I get to— t-to love you like this-sss-s…”

He can hardly get the words out between his desperate mewls, needy sounds that he couldn’t keep at bay if he tried. He’s drooling again, unable to focus on muscle control as his base instincts take over, screaming at him to just forget everything else and fuck you like you deserve to be fucked. 

You reach up to gently push his cheek against your own, pressing a kiss to his jaw and making him whine. He turns his head to kiss you once more, tongue pushing past your lips and allowing you to taste the last remnants of your soggy cunt on his tongue. 

His cock reaches every bit of your insides, pushing in so far you swear you can feel it in your stomach. With each thrust he only speeds up more and more, rambling on and on about how amazing you feel and how badly he needs this perfect boypussy.

“So beautiful,” He chokes out, eyes starting to roll back in his head, “S-So fucking beautiful…all thick and p-perfect…fuck, a-ah—!”

He’s starting to lose his pace, and fast. One of his hands slowly slides down your stomach, his middle finger pawing at your clit. You cry out at the unexpected stimulation and your knees nearly buckle beneath you, prompting Toby to tighten his grip on you just in case you can’t stand yourself up anymore. He rubs your clit in soft circles, just the way you’d taught him all that time ago. Just the way you like. 

“Nngh—! T-Toby,” You stammer, barely able to get the words out, “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna…!” 

“I-I know,” He replies in a rush, “I-I wanna—want it! want it!—w-wanna feel you cum around me…p-please, please…?”

God, how can you deny him when he begs like that?

You start to push back against him in time with his thrusts, assisting him in sheathing himself inside of you and savoring the wonderful fullness. Your legs are shaking obviously now, and you have to fight to keep yourself up even with Toby’s help. He’s not too steady himself. 

He’s started to rub your clit a bit harder, no longer able to focus on keeping his pace steady with his fingers nor his thrusts. The constant shifts in pressure and speed are only pushing you to your release faster. 

He’s whining endlessly in your ear, slurring his words as he drones on and on about how handsome you are, how much he loves you, how grateful he is that he’s the only one who gets to fuck this precious little cunt. 

He’s barely keeping time now, any sense of rhythm forgotten as he desperately ruts into you over and over again. He’s almost at his limit, not far behind you. 

“Toby,” You gasp, “Please, I-I’m gonna—!”

“Do it,” He growls, “D-Do it, please, lemme f-fff-feel that pussy tighten around m-me…”

Just his words, the clear desperation and need in his voice, is enough to push you over the edge. You manage one last cry of his name before you cum around his twitching cock, cunt squeezing and convulsing as you struggle to cope with the wave of pleasure washing over you with more force than you were ready for. 

Toby curses under his breath and sputters out what you think is a warning, but you can barely hear him with the way your head is spinning. That’s what makes it all the more jarring when suddenly he’s releasing inside of you, the fullness of his cock replaces with the thick warmth of his seed spilling into you deeper than you ever thought possible. He groans as his thrusting lazily slows to a stop, leaving you both sweaty and panting. 

He releases his death grip on you, but keeps his arms around your middle. He nuzzles against your cheek with a sigh. He shifts slightly, and you cringe a bit when you feel some of his cum dripping out of you. 

“You’re s-so beautiful baby,” He mumbles against your skin, clearly just as fucked out as you are, “So fucking…p-perfect…my h-ha-handsome boy…”

You give him a tired smile, pressing a little kiss to his warm cheeks. 

“I know, Toby. I know.”

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

[vashtijoy]

have you seen the commentary from the p5r artbook going around? the shuake part of my dash is losing it a bit at the implication that their wishes were mutual!!! that seems to be what some people are getting from the commentary at least… amy insights?

Hi! I have been through the artbook. It's great, isn't it? :D

The image above is called "One Ending", and the creator caption (by illustrator Akane Kabayashi) reads:

When I think about how Akechi's wish was to play chess after school with the protagonist, I almost want to call him out with "You liked him after all, didn't you!"

Look at that. We're told about Akechi's wish, and what it included. We're as good as told outright that he likes Joker—and this isn't the only time, there's also this:

—There are a whole lot of things we can imagine, based on how the protagonist was depicted as someone special to Akechi. Those are more or less the exact emotions represented during Akechi's confidant. (Mumon Usuda, chief designer)

"someone special" here is 特別な存在 tokubetsuna sonzai—literally "a special presence". It means a special person, and more than that; it describes someone you find compelling, someone you can't look away from, someone who becomes one of your most important people, the centre of your world. It's another term that is often romantic, but isn't necessarily romantic.

(In the same way, I think Kabayashi's suki jan! is more tongue-in-cheek than it is a cast-iron confirmation that Akechi was canonly in love with Joker. The language there is teasing, it's ambiguous, it's baity; Kabayashi is joking. This is a rank 6—as they say, if you know, you know. But it is of course ultimately up to all of you.)

There's another mention of this image, down in the creator interview:

Out of all the Maruki ending illustrations, it was Akechi's that stuck with me the most. It made such an impression to see them opening up as friends, having a fun, peaceful time together like high school students should. (Mumon Usuda, chief designer)

What really strikes me in all of this is the emphasis the creators put on the fact that this is Akechi's illustration, Akechi's wish. Because I've thought for a while that we know Akechi has a wish. You can see him struggling with his refusals to Maruki in the first week of January. And you can hear his wish spoken—when Maruki repeats it back to him, during the boss fight, on 2/3:

Maruki {F1 81}君たちとなら、君も過ちのない道を歩めるかも知れないじゃないか！ {F1 81}-kun-tachi to nara, kimi mo ayamachi no nai michi o ayumeru kamoshirenai ja nai ka! If you're with {F1 81}―kun and his friends, you could begin to atone for what you've done! Think about it! With [Amamiya]-kun and his friends beside you, you could choose a path with no mistakes as well!

So this wish has several parts. First, there's that kimi mo, "you also"; it's tempting to read this as Maruki also wanting his new world to erase his past mistakes. Second, there's the first part, "if you're with [Amamiya]-kun and his friends". Where to even start here?

Being with Joker and the others is a prerequisite for the second half of Akechi's wish. It doesn't just coexist, it enables the rest of it. Just like his words in the engine room, "I wonder why we couldn't have met a few years earlier, [Ren]..."

Remember, Akechi's whole arc is about his rejection of trust and friendship, and his insistence on doing everything himself. This is precisely what Futaba calls him out on—"you trusted no one", or "you played life in single-player mode". This is what he unlearns at the climax of the engine room, when he realises he isn't prepared to let the others die—and follows through to save them.

Akechi is nothing without others, and he knows it. Without their support, which he believes he has no right to, he has no hope of living a better life, even were he to be given the chance—and he knows that, too. He has learned, and he has grown—and yet he knows the things he needs and wants so badly are forever inaccessible.

And his wish is about all the Phantom Thieves, not just Joker. There are many tiny references to this end—not least the original Japanese rank 10 line for his confidant, where he sacrifices himself for all of you. Joker is his compelling presence, his someone special, but he's formed small bonds with the others too, God help him.

and then there's the crime thing

The localisation frames Akechi's wish in terms of atonement, but that's not what's on offer. You cannot, after all, atone for things you never did. We see Akechi's wish put into practice, in the Maruki ending, where he appears with his friends beside him, wholly innocent and with unstained hands. And we see it in the first week of January, after he has finally met Maruki and spoken to him:

Akechi: Ah, that reminds me—there was one more thing I wanted to tell you. Akechi: About the reality Maruki's put us in... Akechi: It seems that Okumura and Wakaba are both considered alive by all accounts. [Ren: They're not dead anymore? / What do you mean?] Akechi: They aren't mere illusions, or cognitive beings—they truly are alive and existing in this world. Akechi: In fact, their deaths seem to have never taken place at all in this reality. [Ren: What happened to Shido?] Akechi: Shido was the only one arrested on the crime of attempting to overthrow the government... Akechi: It seems the Phantom Thieves were causing a stir in this society as well, but there's no record of your arrest now. Akechi: Basically, in this reality, you and I haven't committed any crimes.

While Akechi still remembers his crimes, they never took place. They have been undone, and only his lingering memory—and Joker's, at this point—speaks to them. He objects to this on countless levels, he summons all the strength he has to refuse it, but don't make the mistake of thinking that means he doesn't want it. This is Akechi's wish in action.

People are often very certain that Akechi's resolve in the third semester is like iron—that he rejects Maruki's offers right away, is never tempted, never wavers. But that can't be true. We know he's afraid to die. We know about the bad end where you don't complete the Palace, where Akechi says nothing and stares at the floor, seemingly blaming himself internally while all the others blame themselves aloud, for being unable to say no to Maruki's temptations. We know how he responds to this assertion of Maruki's—Maruki, who has perfectly summed up what we know all the other PTs wanted, and who (even if Word of God hadn't just confirmed Akechi's wish) we have, honestly, no reason to doubt.

Because Akechi never refutes this wish that Maruki describes. He never says he doesn't want it. He just rejects it—like all the others, who so desperately want what Maruki could give them. Futaba's mother, Haru's father. Akechi's life, and his innocence. And the people who might have been his friends, if he could dare, one day, to ask.

Akechi is tested just like the others, and the price he pays for his defiance is perhaps the highest of all.

and finally

[The Maruki ending illustrations are] of Maruki's world, where everyone's wishes are granted and they seem happy. The scene shows their actualised wishes, which were never granted in the real world. (Mumon Usuda, chief designer)

We shouldn't forget the price Akechi pays for his impossible wish. Sure, the vision of himself being altered like Sumire clearly haunts him, and I'm sure it made the choice easier—but I don't think it made it that easy. Instead of taking the dream Maruki offered him, Akechi chose to face up to what he'd done, and who he'd become; at the very end, in the third semester and in the engine room, he always makes the right choice.

And that choice was taken away from him. Agency over his life and death, his own acts, and who he would even be—Joker and Maruki take it all away from him and make him a puppet, just like Shido.

Maruki's ending isn't pretty.

revision history

Click here for the latest version.

v1.0 (2024/03/29)—first published.

[celestie0]

hi friends, i won’t be posting or updating any of my works for an indefinite period n will be on hiatus from this blog as well.

i’ve unlisted kickoff & ihm on ao3 (haven’t deleted, they’ve just been made private) and i’ve unpinned my masterlist here on tumblr (again nothing’s been deleted so you could probably find the chapters if you searched my tags)

but the reason i did that is because i don’t want any new readers finding my works during my hiatus because i don’t want to potentially upset more people in the event that, during this hiatus, i decide that i would no longer like to write my fics

that would be an insanely sad decision to make. i put so much thought into my stories not because i am trying to make them entertaining, but it’s because they genuinely mean so much to me and are cathartic in ways i can’t describe. i have spent a great majority of my life self negating for the sake of others, and so writing was just a form of expression where i could talk about all the things i’ve suppressed over the years - anxiety, career stress, financial stress, avoidance, depression, loss, coming of age, navigating love, etc

but lately, and i do think it’s been a build up of just some careless words from a handful of people over the months, i find myself steering towards a practice of writing that is no longer asking the question “how can i put as much of myself in this piece as possible?” but rather “how can i make sure people won’t criticize this…i feel awful that it doesn’t have what they want it to have…other creators are doing xyz, should i be doing that too?…i’m just scared to share this”

not exactly sure when that shift in headspace began, but as of right now, it’s as strong as ever. and i understand that those questions may seem irrational, and i just have to try to not focus on the feeling, n i wish i was someone that could compartmentalize those thoughts better, but here’s the thing — the whole reason i started expressing myself through writing in the first place was because i’ve spent my whole life compartmentalizing. it would feel so ironic & untrue to the lessons i’ve learned in this journey if i just chose to “suck this up” and continue pushing forward until i reach a point of burnout simply because i don’t want to upset anyone

i’m really sorry i couldn’t focus on the positive. especially with all the insane n incredible amount of love n support i’ve received for my works. i’ve said this time n time again but when i started posting kickoff to ao3 back in january of this year, i had NO idea it would be this loved by so many people…i was like ok can’t wait to interact w these four readers for the rest of the year…and then BAM, i find myself fully sobbing after each chapter update because i was so touched by all the sweet n kind words. i don’t want this decision to come off in a way that makes it seems like i don’t love u guys sm or that i’m ungrateful — i’ve always taken pride in respecting my audience. even for a simple hobby, i try to put effort into my works. i proofread, i plan out, i edit in length, all because i am, well, for one, i’m a bit of a perfectionist LOL but also i think there’s a great deal of honor in respecting an audience that gives you their time n attention

but i already am struggling in my life to focus on the positive. medicine has been such an incredibly daunting career to pursue, i’m honestly only doing slightly better now because i’m just filled with relief that i got into med school to begin with lol it’s still surreal to me, so the stress has been kinda manageable so far on that sense of optimism, but dear god the shit i went through to get here…and the shit i know i still face ahead of me. i spend all of my serotonin on trying to stay positive in the face of my responsibilities. so all of this time i’ve spent trying to stay positive for the sake of my stories too has just left me with so much exhaustion — i just don’t see why posting my works should be anything less than fun and endlessly exciting when it’s a hobby that’s supposed to help me thru the actual brunt of life.

anyways, i’m getting a little carried away here. all this to say, i just need to take time away from posting my works so i can see writing as something for myself n not for others again. i don’t want the thoughts swimming in my head to be thoughts of anxiety over people potentially criticizing me n my creative decisions. i want the thoughts in my head to once again be positive, excited, and nurturing towards my stories. i don’t see how i can accomplish that at this point unless i start writing for myself once more, and not for others

i still have a great deal of passion to write, which is why i haven’t formally taken down my works. i anticipate that i may be able to come back in the future to share my writing again. but as of right now, i just want to heal the relationship that i have with this hobby, and i feel like that’s gotta happen in private (lmfao it sounds like im tryna freak my writing)

i’m sorry that i turned off my asks n my replies, i know so many of u care about me n want to support me n i just am beyond thankful. i don’t anticipate this is a forever goodbye, but i do just need some time rn away from all of this.

hope u all have a happy time!! and take care of yourselves :) much love

- ellie

[patchworkcuddlebug]

What's Best

(Special thanks to @honouredsnakeprincess for the inspiration!)

The doll was escorted through the doors of a house owned by what it once considered its family. It remembers it being three stories, with all three bedrooms on the second floor. It was never allowed in the basement, where its father would work on his projects.

The mother stood behind it, hands resting firmly on its shoulders. "Do you still recognize your home, Benny?" Her voice could be best described as clinging to optimism, forcing an undertone of cheeriness that is often used with children.

"Yes." The doll nodded.

More words were said. Expressions of relief, appreciations of normalcy. The doll patiently waited for her to continue.

Soon enough, she was escorted up the stairs. Their child, once the doll's brother, remained locked in his room without giving response. Just as he always had. The mother quickly ushers along.

They arrived in a plain bedroom, kept plain from disinterest. It was messy from dispassion, just as it was left on that fateful day. A living space in the barest minimum of the term.

It wanted to clean it, oh so badly it did, but it was told it could do no such thing anymore.

"I can't imagine what you're going through." The mother lamented as she guided the doll to the bed. "A doll, of all things... I never imagined it could happen to my own son..." She leaned against the wall, mourning what stood in front of her. "You're so lucky we found you, I can't imagine what it was like to be put to work like some... thing."

The doll felt a familiar inclination. A good doll would take more care to make sure that it is understood, politely correcting the misunderstanding. But it knew much better than to try and resist her.

"You should rest for a while, you've been through so much." The mother commands, lingering in the doorway of the uninhabited bedroom. "I'll make you something to eat, okay?"

The doll stood next to the bed. "This one does not feel hunger."

The mother didn't flinch. "Well, it'll be there when you're ready."

The doll kept quiet. It wanted to be polite, to help her understand. But it knew better.

It took the moments alone to try and find stillness, to remember Miss. The witch that gladly accepted it, making it such a pretty doll and giving it such a fulfilling purpose. It feels guilt that it wasn't there to serve her now, but...

...stillness. This one needs rest.

. . . . .

Macaroni and cheese.

It felt no particular reaction to seeing the meal in front of it. A dutiful resignation, perhaps, knowing its orders were to eat. A good doll follows its orders.

Cognitively, it recalled all the nights upon nights that it enjoyed the meal. It clung to that memory like a life raft as the family stared it down.

It's food. That's all it was. The doll tried to reassure itself with this thought, using the mantra to struggle against the visceral feeling of wrongness. Its porcelain teeth gnashed together, impacting and scraping in its mouth and the food was slowly reduced to a paste fine enough to swallow. It sank into the doll's gut, an unwelcome intrusion that made its wrongness known with a bloating ache.

The first bite has been overcome.

The mother sighed in relief, preformative cooing to the father. "Oh, thank goodness he's eating again!" she said to nobody in particular, receiving no acknowledgement in turn.

The doll looked down at the monster on the plate in front of it. It wanted to be good, it really did, but it felt no satisfaction from this obedience. Miss was always so gentle, so caring, so encouraging. Everything she ever asked of the doll was so reasonable, to clean or to cook or to do little favours. It never had to hurt itself like this.

"This one is sorry, but it would like to be excused." The doll hung its head, apologetic and shameful.

An incredulous shock crossed the mother's face, before quickly turning into frustration. "Benedict McLain!" The mother burst upward as if loaded with a spring, desperate to tower over the others. "You have been missing for months, I will not allow you to deprive yourself of a home cooked meal!"

She stepped to her left, standing directly between the doll and the door.

The doll quickly relented. "Understood." It nodded, returning to its chair.

It knew better. Truly, it did.

"Thank you" said the mother, her indignation satisfied. "I know you've been... with that witch for a long time, now." The doll swallowed its resentment at Miss being referred to with such an exaggerated disdain. "But soon you'll learn what it means to be part of a family again, to be a person with feelings and desires and... a family."

The doll politely waited for her to finish. It knew better.

"We just want what's best for you, Benny." It could see now the falseness in her expression, after finally being shown true compassion by Miss. She was much too focused on forming her expression, on making it known how deeply she felt what she said she felt. She was an actor, a bad one, trying desperately to fill herself up with what she found appropriate. "Now please, it up. You don't want it to get cold."

The doll wanted to wish that maybe, someday, she would know emptiness. But it knew better.

. . . . .

The brother entered the house's landing. For once, he didn't let the home's door slam behind him. Rather, he gently allowed the edge to hover in the doorway without properly closing. The mother didn't comment on it, hoping the lack of scolding would speak for itself.

"Oh, and it looks like the hermit has decided to grace us this morning!" The mother smiled playfully at her own joke. As she did, the brother nonchalantly shuffled through the kitchen, leaning against the counter opposite to the door. The mother, of course, politely faced him, not wanting to look like a bad mother. He brought attention to all the new and interesting ideas that he had been learning from his friends online, a topic begetting the mother's full attention.

The doll acted. Last night it had shifted the carpet covering the stairs to the side. Not only would it muffle the impact of its feet, but the edges of stairs are never as worn as their middle, making them much less likely to creak.

Ever so slowly it opened the door. It spared just enough time to thank the brother, from the bottom of its core, for oiling the hinges. It would never forget such kindness, its only regret that it couldn't help him in turn.

It was slow, at first, careful to hush its steps on the dirt yard of the property. Its steps picked up as it passed the fence of the family's neglected apple orchard, and once it turned the corner and lost sight of the house behind it, it broke out into a sprint.

It ran, and ran, and ran, passed the train tracks and the farmland and the driveways dotted along the end of the highway. It ran for what felt like hours, thankful to Miss for freeing it from muscles that could ache. Freeing it from the maddening helplessness of compliance with the careless. Freeing it from the fear that it would be stuck as their son for the rest of its days.

The doll burst through the door of the manor, laying eyes on its witch as she was startled out of her melancholy. She stumbled from her place on the couch, casting her wine bottle aside to clamber to the doll. She lifted the doll, her doll, and danced with it.

"Oh, Magnolia!" the witch cried out in ecstasy. The doll smiled, overtaken by the joy of simply being able to smile, at hearing its real name again.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I couldn't find you sooner! I tried everything, and I was so scared I lost you for good..." she could only hug her doll tighter, burying her face in its shoulders. "I missed you so much, darling, I'm so, so happy you found your way back to me!"

The doll could only hug her back, excitedly switching between gratitude and reassurance. Everything, every feeling, babbled out thoughtlessly, the love and excitement too much to hold back. But there was one in particular, spoken through a tight embrace flooded with mutual tears, that the witch would remember for the rest of her days.

"This one will always find its way back to you, Miss."

[1-ker0sene-1]

Would you consider writing for a reader with face blindness and the other ways they have to identify the boys with?

Like whenever they just freshly walk into a room the reader has to stare at them for a moment until they say something or until they spot the part of them they use to identify them, then they get all happy to see them.

I just think it’d be really cute and face blindness is never a disability I see anything for, it lacks a lot of representation but affects a lot of people. Living with face blindness is a serious struggle, because even if someone is family, they’ll always wear the face of a stranger

{I don't mind at all! I did have to do a little research, as I personally was pretty curious at how somebody with this disability sees faces. If I got anything wrong please let me know! ♥️ As always I hope you're having a lovely day anon♥️}

Price

It took John some getting used to. Not that he doesn't try to accommodate, he just often forgets you don't see the way he does. He's so caught up in loving on you, he doesn't really mind whether you see him. So when he's meeting up with you on dates, coming over to sit at the table where you're already waiting for him.

Seeing that pretty face of yours contort into confusion and even a bit of nervousness makes his brows raise.

"I um.. I'm waiting for someone-"

You mumble out to what you assume may be a stranger.

"Are you now Darlin'?"

John chuckles, reaching to hold your hand from across the table. Lifting it to kiss your knuckles, blue eyes softening at you.

"I'm right here."

Gaz

Kyle would get used to it pretty quickly, trying to find ways for you to recognize him easily. Fuck he'll wear a goddamn cat collar if you ask him to. He won't want you to feel bad for it either.

"You don't need to see me lovie.. you know me. You feel me. And you've done a hell of a job loving me."

He mumbles, if you still feel bad- he'll take your hands and place them on his face. Telling you to just close your eyes and feel.

Anytime he sees the confusion starting in your eyes he tilts his head and cheekily tells you.

"The best boyfriend-"

"Kyle!"

He grins when he gets to watch your reaction to him. It's kind of ethereal.. He gets to see in real time the love bloom across your features. It hits him to, just falls for you everytime he sees it.

Soap

Luckily, Johnny can never really sneak up on you, purely cause he can't keep his mouth shut around you. He didn't even know for the longest time before you outright told him of your disability. He always calls out first, with that Scottish accent and slang, he's pretty recognizable. Between his call outs of-

"Bonnie!"

"Aye there's my lass.."

"Where you ofta' hen?"

Followed by being swiftly scooped up or pulled into his arms. You will have to explain the condition, he's gonna ask questions. Not that he has any doubts, he's just incredibly curious at how you see the world. He'll listen to every word as you describe it, holding your hand to his cheek. Your thumb brushes over the scar on his chin.

Ghost

Personally I believe Simon would be the most effortlessly accommodating. As soon as he finds out you have this disability, he finds a pretty good solution in his eyes. His balaclava. Not many wear a skull balaclava in fucking daylight. So often he wears it until you at least see him, just so you don't panic and can somewhat recognize him better. Then he'll slip it off.

There's maybe a couple times he doesn't wear it. Most likely he just forgot, arriving home. His stealth can sometimes be a curse when you can't recognize him. Poor doll. Nearly jumped out of your skin seeing some big guy in the corner of the room.

"Fuck- it's me love- jus' me."

He does feel bad about it. But the way your eyes light at his voice never fails to make him smile. Tugging you into his arms. Mumbling an apology for scaring you as he kisses across your skin.

[my-castles-crumbling]

OMG Clandestine is done!

I am so so so excited to say I just posted the epilogue to Clandestine! Featuring a beautiful commission from @itslotuseater!

Ships: Jegulus, background wolfstar, dorlene, pandalily, rosekiller Rating: M Length: 142k (FINISHED! COMPLETED! AHH!)

Summary:

He was crying. “You can do that?” He repeated, feeling like he was in some sort of dream. And then, Sirius seemed to realize. Because for a twelve-year-old, he was decently smart, and knew him better than anyone. “D’you…d’you want to do that, Reggie? I thought…I thought it was just a game?” But he could only shake his head. Because it wasn't a game. He was a boy. And he could tell from Sirius's nervously resigned expression that Sirius knew it, too. "It's...not a game." --- There's not enough Trans Regulus Black, so here's a fic to help fix the problem. Rated mature for lots of references to transphobia and Walburga Black being a piece of shit. COMPLETED (I'm not crying, you are)

Ahhh, my long-winded thank-you note:

First and foremost, thank you to Arson, my amazing Alpha Reader who brainrotted with me throughout almost the entire process. I literally could not have finished this without you, and I am so thankful to have you in my life. You've helped me through so many cases of horrible Writer's Block, encouraged me whenever I needed it, and you're an amazing friend. I hope you love your "Barty and Evan's Bitch" shirt :D

Second, to my wife, who literally dealt with me talking about this fic for TEN MONTHS. You're literally the most amazing and supportive person in my life, and I love you more than words. Thank you for being the James to my Regulus.

Third, to my Beta Reader, Kat, who is still wading through the trenches of this fic finding all my mistakes. I am so glad to have you and thank you for dealing with all of my errors and answering my messages at odd hours of the night.

Fourth, to all of the people who have encouraged me: Abby, Danielle, Kelz, everyone on the discord servers who has seen me struggle, you guys are amazing and I am so thankful to you.

Fifth, to the lovely people who created fanart for this fic. You all are amazing and you brought this to life. I bow down to you, truly, you are so incredibly talented.

Sixth, to the people who I interviewed about dysphoria and being on T, so I could have a more well-rounded understanding about Regulus's experience. Though I identify as trans, I am so thankful that other trans people were willing to give their experiences in areas I wanted to describe as accurately as possible.

And last, to all of you, who read and kudosed and inboxed and recommended and commented and kept me going. You all are amazing, and you've made this such a positive experience. This fic really was for me, to work through my own gender an discover about myself, and I am so thankful you have been here along this journey.

I want to reiterate that this is one trans person's journey, but I think it's so important to have representation in all forms of media. I'm hoping that my version of Reggie has helped with that a little bit! He's my baby, and he deserves all the good things.

Keep an eye out for the B-sides of this fic! I'll add a chapter to this work linking to it, so if you're subscribed to this, you'll get an e-mail. I'll also be editing this work to fix all the errors, and I'll be doing the B-sides as I go. It probably won't be for a couple of weeks, since I am now working, and I won't have any strict posting schedule, but I'm excited for those as well!

I love you all. Thanks for being a part of this journey.

[matteglaze]

waitwaitwait relating to the can shigaraki read ask i feel like he would need glasses? but ofc no glasses for the might leader of the LOV (+ dragging this man to the doctor is harder than one may think...) so his vision is just getting worse and so y/n just reads for him. idk i get soft when i think abt reading/cooking/doing chores that kurogiri would do for tomura.

Shigaraki makes you read questionable things

I think because of the lack of sleep Shigaraki gets, his eye sight becomes more and more strained. This is probably exacerbated because of his late night gaming sessions.

It's not a big deal, he reasons. Many people don't get enough sleep, it's not just him.

I actually think Shigaraki could get a doctor to prescribe him glasses or eye contacts with AFO's help (the man's pretty influential let's be real), but I think the reason Shigaraki doesn't is because he won't say anything about it.

He's taken loss, after loss, after loss. Sensei doesn't need to know he's struggling with his eye sight,

Sensei doesn't need to view him as something weak.

It's embarrassing, but Shigaraki is just quiet about it. However, I don't think his eye sight is necessarily bad, I feel like he's still able to read, just not if the text is really small, plus it's better if you do it for him.

"If you tell anyone about this, I swear I'll kill you.." Shigaraki grumbles, scratching at his neck as he glares your way.

You look down at him, pumping up your fist with a small grin "sure thing, boss!"

And that's how you find yourself standing next to his gaming chair, reading the dialogue from a busty girl on Shigaraki's screen. One look at her, and you can tell she's supposed to be some sort of Yakuza love interest. (actually, you know this for a fact, because her nickname is literally Yakuza-chan.)

You clear your throat and read, "Uh... Well, boss, I'm sure you need my protection— so don't worry about a thing, boss!"

This love interest sure does use the word 'boss' a lot, huh?

Shigaraki definitely does this on purpose, choosing characters that either look like you or have your mannerisms. Then he gets you to read their sickenly sweet dialogue, and it's almost like he's getting the real thing.

A cheat code that he managed to find all by himself.

"Now you guys just moved to a beach date." You start to describe the images on screen, but you're cut off once Shigaraki pinches your wrist with his pointer finger and thumb. You let out a pained grumbled, but Shigaraki just clicks his tongue at your antics.

"I can see that, idiot, I'm not blind"

"Okay...whatever you say...wait, hold on, choose this option" you lean over his body and press your finger against the screen, "this will definitely score you some love points"

Shigaraki turns your way, faces inches apart, "huh, you're pretty good at this.."

You turn your attention from the screen to him, a smug look overtaking your features.

"What can I say? The ladies love me"

"I take back what I said." Shigaraki grumbles, turning his head to the side and leaning back into his gaming chair, trying to put a distance between you two; blush on his pale face strikingly prominent. He can only hope that you don't notice.

And you don't— because after awhile you've also found yourself invested in this game, because if you're really going to stand around and read for him you may as well have fun doing it.

"Ok, now choose this option"

Shigaraki hovers his cursor over the option you suggested, 'compliment her swimsuit', but instead he chooses the other one, 'what do you think about my swimsuit'

What do you think about my swimsuit, Yakuza-chan?

"Eugh Boss.. I told you to pick the other one... No girl wants to compliment a guys lame shorts." You grumble, slightly grabbing on Shigaraki's shoulder and shaking him.

"All of our progress! Wasted!"

Even though you complain, you end up reading Yakuza-chan's (stupid name, by the way) dialogue, anyway.

"Ah, boss, I think it's really cute— because you're realize cute, wait I messed that part up, because you're really cute. My little boss, who's a... A what"

You blanch at the next words, 'who's my good little boy', and feel yourself scrunch your nose up. It took such an adrupt turn, you reread it again to yourself.

Well, you weren't aware of the fact that it was this type of game, but that's on you for assuming Shigaraki would waste any storage space downloading a wholesome otome game.

".. What, read it." Shigaraki grumbles.

You awkwardly clear your throat, averting your gaze from the screen and instead looking at the floor.

"Well, you said you aren't blind...can't you see this part.. It's not important to the story or anything"

"It's blurry"

You have a feeling he isn't being too honest, and you think to yourself, perhaps you indulge Shigaraki too much.

i know you meant reading as in like, cute wholesome reading and theyre both sitting together and Shigaraki eventually dozens off or something, but i just can't resist otome nerd tomura

[novlr]

How do I strengthen my writing? I tend to fall back on bad habits because I can't find good habits to replace them.

Building sustainable writing habits that really help you improve can be really difficult. Especially if you don't know where to look. So, here are 10 tips for building good writing habits that can help strengthen your writing!

1. Clear out your creative faucets

Step away from your project and do something else! Write something different. Let yourself write badly. Or just plain old take a break. Your writing will suffer if you're constantly forcing yourself to work on something that isn't bringing you joy.

2. Read voraciously

In the immortal words of Stephen King: “If you don’t have time to read, you don’t have time to write.” 

Read widely in your own genre and outside of it. Take inspiration from other authors, and read critically to see what they do well and what they could do better.

3. Read some bad writing, too

Breaking down exactly why a piece of writing doesn't work for you can be super helpful for understanding what to avoid in your own work. 

4. Try on different writing styles

Try out different approaches to storytelling to find the voice that feels most like yours. You might find yourself attracted to descriptive, sensory prose, or more to austere and pointed prose. Your writing will be strongest when you're the most authentic self you can be.

5. Explore characterisation 

People are messy. Accurately and compellingly conveying this innate messiness is essential to creating a powerful story. Explore your characters and who they are, and if it's a character-driven story, don't be afraid to let them drive.

6. Make friends with your thesaurus 

A great way to make a piece of prose shine even brighter is to expand your vocabulary. There are a lot of words in the English language that mean similar things but have slightly different moods and tones. Finding the exact right word to convey what you’re trying to say will help your writing land more emphatically with your reader. 

7. Banish filtering words

Filtering is one of the most common mistakes new writers make. It involves describing a character’s sensations or feelings with filtering words like felt, saw, heard, knew, watched, or realised. This holds the reader at a distance and makes them feel like they’re hearing a story, rather than living it.

An example of filtering would be, “She watched the sun rise majestically over the mountains”. It would feel more immediate to simply say, “The sun rose majestically over the mountains”. The reader already knows your point-of-view character is watching; now, the reader can watch it with them. 

8. Glare disapprovingly at the passive voice

Passive voice isn’t necessarily wrong all the time, but nine times out of ten, it will slow down the pace of your story and encourage the reader to lose interest in your characters. Passive voice means having something done to a character — “John was punched in the face by Nick” — instead of a character actively doing something: “Nick punched John in the face”.

9. Familiarise yourself with story structure

The best stories follow an established plot structure, and follow it so smoothly that the reader doesn’t even realise there’s an ancient storytelling template behind it. These structures are designed to introduce just the right amount of tension and suspense and to give the reader the ideal payoff by the end. Rather than being formulaic, they help with pacing and plot development.

10. Get peer feedback

Finally, the best way to make your work as strong as it can be is to get some feedback from other writers. This can be from a professional editor, a beta reader, or a collaborative writing group. Getting a second pair of eyes can help you catch plot holes or inconsistencies before you send your story out into the world.

Want to know more? Read the full post at the link below!

[thesassypadawan]

Prove It (Knight Anakin x PadawanFemReader)

Summary: Unbearable, painful, soul crushing. That’s it felt like after closing off your bond with Anakin. It wasn’t a decision you made lightly, only doing so after you caught him running around with a certain little senator. However you are willing to reopen it, but only if he can prove that he does indeed want you more.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because of all the lovely smut. Cheating Anakin, makeup sex…and Ani’s big dick. Padawan Reader is of age.

Notes: Happy Hayden's (And Mine) Birthday Event! In honor of the man, the myth, the legend; I will be posting nothing but Anakin, Vader, and Hay stories all April long!

A little something for a lovely anonymous! I really enjoyed writing this, it was truly a pleasure!  I know it's like only a hint of angst in here, but I tried my best (still learning how to write for it). Hope you like it! ❤️

The sound of knocking filled you shared quarters, startling you out of your restless slumber. It wasn’t completely uncommon for you to struggle with sleeping; some nights were better than others. Tonight, or rather the past couple of nights, though had been the worst yet.

Unbearable, painful, soul crushing. Were just a few ways to describe how it felt. How it felt to be completely closed off from someone through the force. Someone who you cared for deeply, someone you thought was…

Not caring that you were only in a certain someone’s oversized tunic, you quickly made your way to the door. Knowing fully well who you would find on the other side.

A mix of emotions ran through you as you were greeted by the sight of a very disheveled looking Anakin. His face was red, eyes puffy. Tear tracks shining in the faint corridor lights. It seemed like you weren’t the only one who couldn’t get any rest…good.

Leaning against the frame, you crossed your arms across your chest. Gaze hardened, voice cold. “What do you want, Skywalker?”

“I… I, um…” The great hero without fear stuttered, cowering a bit before you. His hands twitching and trembling at his sides.

Noticing this, you had taken a step back. You didn’t need a bond to know what he wanted to do; to scoop you up in his arms and hold you close. And as much as you desired to give in, you refuse to do so. “I’ll ask again… What do you want, Skywalker?”

Despite your actions, he still reached out for you. Long fingers tentatively grazing and touching your side, before you slapped them away. “Fine,” he sighed in defeat, shoulders slumping. “I came here to talk to you…to try to make things right. Please…can I come in?”

You should have turned him away right then and there. But he looked so lost, so pathetic…you just couldn’t. “All right,” you huffed, stepping aside. “Get in here, don’t need you attracting unwanted attention.”

Ani perked up a bit and gave a small nod. “Thanks,” he muttered, quickly dipping inside.

The scene was all too familiar. Him sneaking into your shared quarter late at night. You both trying to contain your enthusiasms while you snuck off to your room. Hoping your master would remain in his deep slumber or, in instances like this, grateful to have him away on some kind of solo mission.

However, one thing was different…

“I’m surprised you’re here,” you said spitefully, closing the door behind you. “Shouldn’t you be at your precious, little senator’s apartment?”

You watched him flinch, your words clearly having the effect you hoped they would have. “No,” he replied, placing his big hands on your arms. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

“Oh, really? Is that so?” You laughed, a hint of mockery in your tone. “If that’s the case, then why did you go somewhere else? Why did you feel the need to go run off to another woman’s bed, when you had a perfectly good one here?”

His hold on you tightened and he let out a shaky breath. “Okay, I deserved that. You have to hear me out though…please. Please?”

There were so many things you wished to say, to yell. Instead you just stood there; staring up at him, your expression unreadable.

When you didn’t reply, Anakin leaned down a bit. Brushing his lips across yours, whispering softly. “Hatari, I made a huge mistake. I don’t want her, only you. I love-”

“Prove it,” you boldly interrupted, a fiery glint in your eyes. “Show me right now and…I’ll consider reopening the bond.”

Silence fell between you two, the air grew heavy with tension and underlying lust. He was so close; you could feel his hot breath fanning over your face. Lips inches away from one another. “With pleasure,” he chuckled.

Giving you a chaste kiss, he pulled away. You were about to whine in protest, so touched starved, when he slipped out of his robes. Cock springing forth, wonderfully hard and deliciously leaking. That smug smirk on his face.

In an instant, Ani had hooked his strong arms under your thighs. Squeezing them, hiking them up onto his hips. Wrapping them tightly around his waist, pressing you firmly against the door.

Crashing your lips together, you kissed each other hungerly. Your hand reaching and fumbling to position his fat tip at your dripping entrance. “No panties? Were you expecting me, angel?”

“Shut up,” you growled in his ear. “And just kriff me already.”

“Maker you’re sexy when you’re angry,” he groaned. Pushing his impressive length into you, both of you moaning and hissing in unison.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, nails frantically scratching. As he pounded your needy cunt over and over. Grip nearly painful, fingers digging into and bruising your subtle flesh.

The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the air while he slammed into you. Desperate mewls escaped you from him hitting that perfect, toe-curling spot. The coil in your stomach only winding tighter with each passing moment. “Faster… Kriff… Harder… Going to… Kriff…”

Spurred on by your encouraging words, Anakin’s thrusts grew sloppier. Invisible fingers drawing circles on your clit, trying to coax your orgasm out of you. “M-Me too,” he grunted, face buried in the crook of your neck. “Let go; let it all out f-for me.”

That’s all it took, and you were sent spiraling. Waves of pleasure washing over you. Whole body convulsing around him. Making him crash, spilling his hot cum deep inside you. All that pent up energy finally getting released.

You two stayed like that for a minute or two. Catching your breath, foreheads pressed together. Sighing in relief and happiness as your bond reopened.

“Missed you,” you giggled.

“Missed you too,” he laughed softly. “Forgive me?”

A wide, slightly twisted grin spread across your face. “Of course, Ani. But just know, if I ever see you with that little senator again… I’ll have to make you ‘prove it’ in a more aggressive way.”

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @cacti5539, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen

[chrisisvbun]

Can I request a male reader x Bucky Barnes. One that is super angsty/fluffy. Bucky and reader like one another but they never really tell one another because things/people interrupt them. One day Bucky goes on a mission, he comes back super late. Bucky Goes to readers apartment and reader spends the whole night patching up Bucky and making him feel better. Like getting a warm bath to help him relax. Bucky was scared of never seeing reader ever again. Maybe one of them confesses?

a/n: I love it everyone send requests I love em :(

cozy night. bucky barnes x male!stark!reader.

synopsis: after your dad, tony stark, passed away, it's your job to run the company since you are the eldest kid. but going through grief and working isn't easy, you fortunately got bucky by your side ever since you started, which lead to some confusing feelings and a lot for tension between you to, that seems to never conclude in anything due to multiple interruptions.

cw: angst, death (tony's) (i teared up a bit), mention of young pregnancy, fluff, reader has a Cuban mom, slightly described reader, bucky being the sweetest, lots of tension, friends to lovers, bucky being soft and vulnerable, alcohol, anxiety, blood and scars, nudity (non sexual), flirting.

words: 2.8k

You sighed as you kept typing on your computer, a slight frown on your light brown forehead as you checked the enormous pile of papers next to you, while your glasses slightly fell through the bridge of your nose.

A knock on the door slightly called your attention, a loud “come in” came out of your throat. And that sweet, soft “Hey” made the noise on your ears shut, as your attention went completely to Bucky. 

It didn't matter if you were tired, burnt out or just having a shitty day, Bucky’s single presence in your office always made you smile.

“Hi.” You smiled sweetly, which made him smile too.

“Just wanted to check on you, it’s getting really late.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yeah, I should call it a night.” You sighed, removing your glasses and rubbing your eyes. Bucky’s expression softened.

“Need a lift? We could grab a beer if you want.” He asked, trying to sound casual.

You sighed again. “I would love to, but Happy is picking me up with Morgan in like… ten minutes.” You glanced at the clock, your face softened at the sight of Bucky’s disappointed look. “Maybe another time, Buck.”

“Whenever you want.” He smiled, understanding. “I’m gonna head home, but text me if, for some reason, you finish early, and want to grab that beer.”

“I will. Go home, Barnes.” You smiled lovely, he smiled back.

“You too, Stark.”

After Bucky left, you began to close everything up on the top office of the Stark Tower. You took a look at your clock to check the time, 9:27 pm.

You sighed and looked at your phone, Happy confirmed that he was on the parking lot with your young sister, you smiled at the picture he sent you fo her watching through the window of the car, waiting for you.

You got into the Avengers during the blip, you lived in Connecticut with your mom, a Cuban woman that had become a mother really young, and one of the many who disappeared during the blip. One of those nights when you began to miss her, you began to check the boxes that she always hid in the basement, where you found that your father’s last name was Stark. Apparently, Tony Stark had an adventure with your mother when both of them were younger, a one time thing, that unfortunately -even though your mom says the opposite- lead to her getting pregnant at nineteen years old, in 1989.

When you found out, you managed to get in touch with the Stark Tower, and found where he was staying, only to find his new life, his new wife and daughter. Even though your mom and him weren’t nothing more than a one-night-stand, it hurt you to see how great he was doing aside from the general blip situation, where you were struggling emotionally and economically, not just during the blip but all your life.

Apart from the shock of finding out he had a son, he couldn’t have been happier about meeting you. You talked for almost a day, and he, for the first time, seemed interested in someone else rather than himself and his daughter. He asked about you, about your mom, your studies, your life in general. And you couldn’t blame him, he didn’t know, and at that moment, you believed him when he told you that, if he had known, he would've stayed. You wanted to keep believing that. And he even made you your own suit.

You went with him to find the infinity stones, you fought with Thanos to save him. And when the words “I’m Iron Man” came out of his mouth, you saw the man you had began to call your father, and who now had passed.

“No, no, no, not now. Not now, please.” You sobbed, grabbing his hands, he weakly looked at you. “JARVIS, his vitals.” 

But you didn’t even try listening to the voice, you saw his eyes and his slight smile and knew, you knew like you’ve known him all your life.

“Dad, please… I want to know more, please, don’t- Dad-” Your voice cracked more, trying to hold him more only to be removed by Steve. “Dad, please!” You sobbed as Steve held you, trying to make you calm down.

You fell to your knees watching his life leaving his eyes, only crying louder, thinking what are you going to tell Morgan.

“Hey, kid.” Happy made you snap out of your thoughts. “Hey, you alright?” He asked, concerned.

“Yeah, yeah,” You swallowed the knot of sadness in your throat and smiled. “Where is she?” You looked around, and the answer jumped right to your back, making you complain of the sudden hit.

“Big bro!” Your sister hugged your neck from behind. You laughed and moved her around to grab her in your arm, rubbing her hair.

“Hey there, little devil.” You teased.

The night was great, you went to a simple diner, together, ate cheeseburgers as you caressed your sister’s hair. You smiled as you looked down at her asleep in your arms, seeing your dad all over his factions. He looked more like him, you were more like him. But looking at her made you feel a pang of protectiveness and affection that you’d rarely ever felt. He was the best thing your father left you, and the cutest and the softest.

“Can’t we have a sleepover?” Your sister pouted as you began to climb out of the car.

“Morgan…” Happy began to scold her.

“It’s okay, Hap.” You smiled at him. “Maybe during the weekend, alright? a day where I don't have to stay really late and wake up really early” You smiled as she nodded. You gently leaned in and rubbed her little nose with yours, leaning your forehead against hers. “I love you 3000.”

Your sister giggled and smiled. “I love you 3000.”

(...)

A knock on the door called your attention again, and you smiled once Bucky got in your sight.

“Barnes.”

“Stark.” He smiled. “What are you up to?” He nodded at your computer, you sighed.

“Some meetings I need to have with investors, taxes, boring shit.” You shrugged.

“Sounds like heavy shit.” You nodded. “So… In order for you to relax, wanna, you know, grab that beer?” He smiled, leaning against your desk.

You smiled and were about to answer, about to say yes and finally do it. Finally go out with him, have a decent date. But your phone rang.

You sighed. “Sorry.” You said with honest guilt, but that faded when he gave you a knowing smile. 

You grabbed the phone, starting with the usual greeting until you got serious. “I’ll be there in a minute.” You hung up and rubbed your face, standing up.

“Hey, hey.” Bucky put his hands on your shoulders. “What 's wrong?”

You sighed and he put you against his chest, soothing you before you spoke. “My mom, she is having problems with the house but she doesn’t want to move out, and the idiot that wants to buy the house to make a building came again, apparently, and they are… I don’t know, making a fucking mess.” You pulled away from his embrace. “I’m really sorry, Buck-”

“Don’t you dare to apologize.” He smiled while ruffling your hair. “It’s alright, we’ll get to it some time.”

After fighting with white dudes and defending your mother, at eleven o’clock you finally got home, and after getting changed and ready to bed, you called Bucky.

“Yeah?”

“Barnes, hey.” You instantly smiled when heard him, and you heard how he huffed a smile too.

“Stark, it’s good to hear you this happy.” He teased slightly.

You chuckled. “I just… heard you and got happy.” You said with a slight shy tone.

“You are gonna make me blush, handsome.” He said sweetly. “What’s going on?”

“No, nothing, I just- Are you still down for that beer? Maybe tomorrow?” You said, again in that shy tone, making Bucky chuckle.

“I would love to, doll, but you see, I just got a notification that I have a mission.”

You huffed, frustrated. “Are you kidding me?” You whined.

Bucky laughed at your whiny tone. “It seems like we will never get to it, do we?”

“Don’t say that, idiot…” You giggled.

“I’ll pick you up after the mission tomorrow, alright? I’ll text you.” Bucky said casually, your heart skipped a bit and you smiled stupidly.

“Yeah, yeah… that sounds great.”

The day after that call felt light like a feather, you had a smile on your face all day long, even during long meetings that did nothing but bore you. The last paper you signed and you clocked out for the day, excited to head home and get ready for the night that was about to finally happen.

So you waited, long hours with your outfit that you had been thinking about since the day before. You began to wonder if he would ever come, if he wanted this date as much as you did. You began to think it wasn’t the case, the mission should had finished hours ago, and he simply wasn’t there.

You were about to head to the bar by yourself, but as you waited outside your apartment, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

"Barnes." You answered in a tone that was a mixture of coldness and concern.

"Stark, I'm sorry, but I won't be able to make it." His voice was strained, and you heard the unmistakable sound of pain in the background.

"What happened?" You asked as you felt a sting of guilt in your heart.

"Mission went sideways. I'm okay, just… need to take care of the scratches." He assured you, but his voice was laced with exhaustion.

"I'll be right there." You said without a second thought, not letting him answer or deny.

When you arrived at his place, you found Bucky leaning against the wall, his shirt stained with blood and his eyes filled with relief at the sight of you. Without saying a word, you helped him inside. You grabbed the first aid kit and some clean towels, your hands shaking slightly as you approached him.

"Let me do this." You said, kneeling down to remove his boots.

He nodded, wincing as you gently peeled his shirt away from his skin. The wounds weren't deep, but they were numerous, a testament to the fight he had just been in. You worked meticulously, cleaning each cut and bruise with gentle strokes of the cloth, your eyes never leaving his.

"Thanks." He murmured, his voice hoarse.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat every time your hands brushed against his skin. "It's what friends do."

He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours. "Yeah," He said softly, "it is." He knew what you meant.

You patched him up in silence, sitting on his couch as you cleaned his small wounds. You moved up to close the small cut on his brown, Bucky winced slightly, gripping your thigh slightly. “Sorry.” You said low. “Don’t be.” He smiled weakly, his hand caressing your thigh gently.

After you patched him up, you got the chance to notice how his whole body was covered in a layer of sweat and dirt.

“Wait here.” You stood up and left for the bathroom, and after some minutes, you peeked through there. “Can you walk here?”

He nodded and approached, he entered the bathroom, covered in steam, the tub filled with warm water. “I’ll help you get undressed.” You said. He was so tired, he just slumped on the toilet with a groan and nodded. With gentle touches you removed his clothes, with nothing but affection and care. You pulled down his pants, his socks, his shirt, and looked up at him, silently asking if you could remove his pants, at which he nodded weakly.

You removed his boxers, not even wanting to check anything in him. You helped him in the tub, and he shivered at the contact of the warm water. “Too hot?”

He shook his hair. “It’s perfect.” You smiled at him gently.

You went to the kitchen and came back with two cold beers opened, passing him one to him.

He looked up, his icy blue eyes softened at the sight of you offering him a drink, he almost wanted to cry. Your family and him already had a story, not the best one, and he didn’t want that to be relevant, but at the same time, there was something that made him want to push you away, to avoid rejection, because if you didn’t want him if you didn’t crave him as much as he did, he wouldn’t be ab;e to do it, to move on from you. But the idea of being away from you physically hurt him, just thinking about not crashing in your office once in a while, seeing you smile, making you blush, making you laugh. He dreamt about that cute face of yours every single night.

He grabbed the beer and both of you took a long sip, one of your hands moved to scratch his scalp while sitting in the edge of the tub. He rested his head on the side of your thigh, sighing, relaxed, happy.

“This wasn’t how I thought our date would go.” Bucky said.

You giggled. “Date?” He blushed and hid his red face on your leg, making you laugh again. “If you told me it was a date before, I would’ve postponed everything in my agenda.”

“Oh, c’mon, you could tell.” He complained, you laughed again and drank from your beer.

“Well, if this is our date, i’m having a great time.”

“Really?” He looked up at you.

“Yeah. I mean, I get to have a drink with a naked handsome man.” You laughed, he chuckled against your leg.

“Yeah, I guess you are right.” He smiled, looking up at you.

“You still in pain?”

He was about to tell you the truth and say no, because that was the reality. His muscles were relaxed due to the warm water, so all the pain was already long gone. But he decided to lie a bit.

“Actually, no.” He huffed, sitting in the tub.

“You have any pain killers here?”

“Mm, yeah.” He kissed your cheek. “But maybe, just maybe, if a pretty boy kissed me, my problems would get solved.”

You raised an eyebrow at him and followed along with his little game. “What a shame, we don’t have any pretty boys here.”

He chuckled and grabbed your jaw gently, turning your face to him. He pressed his lips into yours in a soft kiss, but also a really brief one.

“Well, I guess you are one, because I’m not in pain anymore.” He smiled over his lips.

You rolled your eyes with a playful smile. “You are an idiot.”

“You adore me like that, Stark.” He pecked against your lips repeatedly.

“Hell yeah I do, Barnes.”

[essentiallyleaf]

day 19. rimming. with. haewon.

723 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, haewon is haewon, what else is there to say, rimming, handjob, writer is the moon knight meme in this one.

notes.

im out of (barely) good ideas and im panicking. fizzlingoutly, leaf.

You didn’t think it’d be so easy getting from Haewon’s overlip leaving pink-leaning-orange (she keeps insisting she’s a cool tone, but hm, is she really?) marks on her coke glass to the same lip imprints circling your butthole as she leaves wet kisses all around it. No, it was just a quick exchange, like she was choosing what to have for lunch at Subway.

“Wait, you’ve done this already, right?” You ask her, not without a little worry.

“Nah, have you?” She spits back casually.

“I thought you were the one who ate ass and wanted me to be your mate?! You know, mate in the, Brit sense, not in the… scientific sense.” That was more complicated than it needed to be.

“I dunno, I’m just tryna have fun.” She shrugs.

The correct answer, like in the Subway situation, is to not find yourself there, but if for some reason you do, might as well try to make the best of it. And the best of it, in this case, supposedly consists in Haewon’s hands keeping your thighs wide open as you lay on your back while her tongue takes a few short, explorative trips from your testicles, down to your perineum, applying a little pressure on it, and to the edge of your puckered hole. She brings her fingers up to your previously lubricated shaft to stroke it from time to time, but your groans when she does make them retreat immediately, reminding her that no, that’s not the main dish tonight.

It feels a little weird, having something touch you down there, but when that something has the soft, smooth texture, the expert dexterity and the cunning wit of Haewon’s tongue, well, then it’s probably Haewon’s tongue that’s when weird falls into the background to make space for pleasing, as testified by your whimpers, starting sparse and now becoming more and more frequent. That’s enough evidence for the girl to deduce that it’s time to go in, and when she does without any sign of warning, the only thing that can reasonably come out of your mouth, after a loud moan, that is, is a “Fuck you!”. That’s fair, she thinks, as she keeps attacking the inside of your cavern, and fair is the answer that you receive.

“That’s only gonna happen later, be patient”

Haewon starts circling all around the inner edge of your hole, making you bring a hand to your mouth to try to contain your own groans, or worse, screams. How does the joke bear get to this? How does she go from acting as the loser girl transferring schools in 7th grade for shits and giggles, to having you struggle to keep your shit together in your own bed because she wanted to, and this should be more or less the exact quote, “tongue-punch your bussy, you little boy bitch!”? Maybe sometimes it’s better not to ask. Other times, you don’t really have the physical capability to ask because your ‘friend’ (an umbrella term, but the most appropriate one to describe the two of you, you think; again, sometimes it’s better not to ask) is alternating between pumping her tongue deep in your asshole and wrapping her lips around its entrance to suck all the air out of it. Those times, the hand that was keeping your mouth closed becomes an object just like any other to bite onto, because now it would be screams. Those times, making the best of it is letting Haewon play with her toy and focusing on not letting the whole neighborhood know about it. Not supposedly anymore.

So when the final thrusts of her tongue hit you where it pleases the most, both of her hands back on your length and stroking, the only thing you can do is wail onto your own hand while you watch spurts upon spurts of white fly up in the air and back down on your abs, the muscles of your ass flexing repeatedly around her tongue. Lay your head back down onto the pillow and let yourself catch your breath again as you spread your arms open on the bed. Not even a minute, and she’s already taking her zip-up sweater and ripped blue jeans off and throwing them on the ground.

“Come on, fucker, what did you think the main dish was?”

-

footnotes.

maybe the formula is just sleep schedule plus work ethic, times effort. mathematically, leaf.

[strawberrystepmom]

gojo and f!reader are in a semi established relationship aka idiots in love. they are about 20 and 21 here. cw some insinuation of infidelity on reader’s part but not against gojo. wc 1.2k

divider by the ever wonderful @/cafekitsune ❤️

Almost as if he’s made of pure pixie dust, Gojo appears in your bedroom without a noise or sign of his arrival while you rest in bed, blankets pulled up around your hips.

“I wish you’d at least text me before you do that.”

You don’t react anymore, learning a few months ago he teleports in and out wordlessly simply to get a rise out of you, and he sits on the edge of your bed opposite your body with a huff.

“I don’t understand why you hate surprises so much. If a handsome man appeared in my bedroom out of thin air using his awesome power I’d be excited.”

You snort, patting the bed and inviting him to lie down even though you really shouldn’t. In fact, you really really really shouldn’t yet you open your blankets and watch him slip out of his jacket. He tosses it on the floor as carelessly as ever and he comes to your bed in a white t-shirt untucked from navy pants, long arms automatically seeking out the shape of your curves.

“Satoru, I don’t mind if you sleep here but we shouldn’t be doing that.”

He frowns, cocking his head to the side.

“What? Cuddling?”

“Yeah, cuddling or fucking or any of it. It’s not appropriate.”

Raising his brows, he sits up in your bed for a moment and contemplates what you mean.

For the last several years, the two of you have been locked in this push and pull game of who will break and admit everything first - who will let the first I love you slip in the real world and not just during sex when both of you are left with enough deniability to dart out of the corner those three little words have painted you into?

The dynamic is complex, sure, but it has worked this far and it perplexes him why you would want to change something that is working so well. Lying back, he doesn’t wrap his arms around your waist and hold you close but traces the curve of your shoulder with the soft pad of his index finger instead.

He doesn’t want to ask because he already knows why you are putting walls back up to keep him out, yet he does.

“Hiroki?”

You shouldn’t but you groan frustratedly hearing the name of your current boyfriend leave Satoru’s pretty mouth. The two of you aren’t official and have only been seeing one another for several weeks but you want to give him an honest shot to be with you. The last two men you’ve dated haven’t fared well, losing out to the man with the moonlight colored hair currently occupying your bed, but you feel Hiroki deserves better than that.

He deserves far better than what you’ll eventually do to him when you get bored and go running back to the man next to you but you keep the thoughts to yourself lest they become a self fulfilling prophecy.

“Yes. It’s inappropriate.”

Satoru chuckles and slips his finger beneath the strap of your tank top, slipping it off and tracing down your collarbone despite the way you slap at his hand.

“What’s he like?”

Heat rushes into your face, cheeks searing from the tone of his question. It’s condescending but you know he can’t help it, his attitude a side effect of having the world presented to you atop a shining silver platter. You’re not even angry with him for asking, you’re angry at him for proving that you’re struggling to find a way to describe Hiroki.

He’s a sweet man, your age with only four months separating your birthdays. He’s patient and mild and a little skittish around strangers. His favorite music is acid jazz and his favorite color is purple. He eats hayashi rice at his favorite restaurant every Wednesday night.

These are not ways you can describe the man you are seeing to your frustratingly dazzling pseudo boyfriend.

Sighing, you reach for Satoru’s hand and pry it off of you before his finger can come any closer to your throat and chin and face. You’re sure he was gearing up to pop it in your mouth like he always does. His hand creeps right back to where it was the second you drop it.

Finally, you stumble upon the word you want to use to describe Hiroki and it leaves your lips with a defeated sigh.

“He’s normal.”

Satoru laughs so loud you’re afraid it’ll wake up the entire floor of your neighbors. You shush him, burying your face in a pillow you’ve plucked from behind you.

“Normal, huh? As if that’ll keep your interest for long.”

Scoffing, you sit up and his hand slides down your chest and into your lap. He struck a nerve but he isn’t apologetic, blue eyes blinking up at you lazily from where he rests against the pillow he designated as his when you moved into this apartment two years ago.

“What are you insinuating?”

He smirks, glad you’ve once again slipped into his carefully laid traps. Your teeth are bared and your brow is furrowed, arms folded over your chest. Once again you’ve underestimated how well this man knows you.

“I’m just saying that if normal is what you wanted, you would have left after graduating instead of sticking around.”

Instead of getting involved with him, abnormal as he is.

“You’re being an ass.”

You know he’s right despite the insult, so you barely argue. This has been a cycle since the start of your twenties - swearing Satoru off completely only to let him sleep in your bed because neither of you sleep well when you’re alone until it eventually comes to a head and your feelings spill over and it’s back to square one.

“I mean, at least you always come back to where you belong.”

Shooting him a downright terrifying glance, you shift and roll onto your side so that you are no longer facing him. He rolls onto his own side and presses the front of his body against the back of yours, a familiar cradle you’re glad to be wrapped in.

When he settles, his fingers trace down your sides in wide swaths and you squirm before flipping back onto your other side to face him. You capture his face between your palms and look over each of his features, his dimples and nose and beautiful skin and those fucking eyes you want to be less suceptible to.

Then you kiss him. It’s as chaste as you ever have, or at least since the last time you decided you wanted to call him yours, and he smirks against your lips.

“That’s all you get tonight,” you start and he begins to whine and argue until you press your finger against his lips, shushing him. “Let me do this right and call Hiroki in the morning to break it off first.”

Grumbling, he acquiesces because as always, at least you’re back where you belong even if he has to wait until the morning to remind you why you were silly for leaving in the first place.

[tbyfandoms]

Birthday Blues | Austin Butler x Reader

Pairing: austin butler x f!reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: noticing her struggle with the loss and memory of her brother on his birthday, austin helps and comforts y/n with the celebration of his special day (requested)

Warnings: mentions of deceased siblings, descriptions of grief

Masterlist/Request Form | Ask/Tell/Request

A/N: it’s been so long since I’ve updated and I’m so sorry for that. I’ve missed writing so much and hope this is me getting back into my groove. I started this request ages ago but just now finished it. it’s felt so weird rounding out this fic about grief after hearing the news about liam (for any of my fellow directioners) and it’s just crazy to me how so many of the feelings and instances I wrote about in this fic have been a reality lately. I hope you’re all doing well whether you’ve been affected or not, and please remember to keep those you love close and to let them know how much you love them. to the anon who requested this, I hope this fic brings you comfort, thank you so much for requesting <3

Today’s the day. The day you’ve been anxiously awaiting for a while now. Every year it’s the same, it never seems to get easier for you no matter how hard you wish it would.

It’s your brother’s birthday, and it’s been a while since you’ve gotten to celebrate with him in person. He passed away and every year on his birthday you find yourself unable to function properly. Everyone tells you it gets better with time, but you’re still waiting for that to start kicking in.

There are some days where you find yourself so overcome with grief you can’t even find the right words to describe it, and there are other days where for a little while you almost forget he’s not here anymore. You yearn for those days, those days that feel like you’re floating and there’s nothing but calmness surrounding you.

You wish his birthday was one of those tranquil days.

As you move mechanically around the kitchen, doing your normal tasks as you would any other day, you find yourself trying not to fall apart.

Grief is a really funny thing. At times you believe your mourning period has passed and that that part of you that’s now missing has been patched and you’ll be able to handle this day on your own without any consolation. Other times you don’t even know how you’re able to stand up on your own and be expected to continue on. It’s like a balancing act, never knowing which way the scale is going to tip. Calm or devastated. Good or bad.

Pouring yourself something to drink, you think back on all the happy memories with your brother that you can. You know in your heart he wouldn’t want you to be sad today, or any day really. It’s just incredibly hard to not notice his absence, especially on his special day. It’s hard when you miss him so much and want nothing more than to celebrate with him instead of without.

Over the past few days you’ve tried not to focus too much on your brother’s birthday. You’ve kept busy and continued business as usual but you can’t deny the moments of sadness that crept in unannounced. You’ve talked to other family members about it and some of your friends too, a lot of them knowing what this day means to you and how hard it can be. You always keep up a brave face but it’s easier said than done on some days compared to others.

The sound of padded footsteps coming from your right breaks you out of your thoughts. When you turn your head you’re met with the soft smile on your boyfriend’s face. It’s impossible not to reciprocate it. You don’t know a soul on this Earth that’s ever been able to withstand a smile from Austin Butler.

“Hi, baby,” he says as he wraps his arms around you, his warmth and familiar scent immediately settling over you. Your body instantly relaxes against him, comfort beginning to course through your veins.

“Hi, Aus.” It comes out almost like a whisper and you curse yourself for already showing a sign of weakness. You promised yourself last night that you’d try to get through this day on your own, not wanting to distract Austin from any of his work or typical routine. Alas it’s not turning out how you hoped. That’s the thing about grief though, no matter how hard you try, you never do know when it’s going to come creeping back in.

Busying yourself with cleaning up, you ease yourself out of Austin’s grasp. For some reason you feel that if you stay that close to him, it won’t be long before your walls start crumbling down and you’ll both end up wrapped in devastation.

To be fair, you don’t even know if your boyfriend realizes what today is. You know you’ve mentioned it in passing, but with not wanting to make a big deal out of it you never really went into detail. You’ve talked to Austin about your brother before whether it be reminiscing about childhood memories or recalling an inside joke, but you always try to keep that devastation at bay.

The blonde hasn’t said anything about it recently and with his hectic schedule lately, you’re sure it hasn’t even crossed his mind. You’re not hurt by it, if anything you understand and appreciate it. It’s probably best if you handle today alone, in your own way.

A small frown adorns the corner of your lips and you make sure to turn your head so Austin doesn’t notice it. One thing about him is that he’s always able to pick up on your emotions and can tell when something’s wrong. Best plan of action is to just proceed as you normally would. You’re sure the actor has a million and one things to do today, so he should be out the door any minute now and you’ll be able to tackle the day however your head and heart deem fit.

“Are you hungry?” You say as chipper as you can while you start to open up a cabinet, ready to whip up anything your boyfriend would like. “I can make you your favorite or if you have to leave soon I can just make you something to take on the go.”

“No, I’m okay, thank you. I-I’m not working today.” You nearly bash your head into the cabinet door as you hear this. Your boyfriend was practically always working, especially now. So him saying this totally takes you by surprise.

“Why not?” You turn around and face Austin and just based off the look on his face you can tell he remembers what day it is. His eyes are so sincere and you nearly burst into tears because he hasn’t even said anything and yet you know exactly why he isn’t working. Why he most definitely told his manager and whoever else that today specifically was off limits for any meetings or shoots.

“I took the day off. I know I haven’t brought it up lately and you probably thought I forgot, but I know what today is, what it means and how important it is to you. I just wanted to be here with you and to let you know if you need me that I’ll be right here. I won’t let you deal with today on your own, sweetheart.” His tone is soft and he reaches out to caress your cheeks, wiping a tear you hadn’t even realized slipped out in the process.

“Austin I-,” you gulp, emotion rising fast in your throat as you look into his blue eyes and feel the empathy radiating off of him. “You didn’t have to do that. I know how busy you are and I know it must’ve taken a lot to have your day cleared. Really, it’s fine if you want to go to work. I-I can handle it, I’m fine-“

Your voice cracks and in that same moment you feel like part of your heart does as well.

Austin’s hands are tangled in your hair in an instant as he pulls you in close, holding your head against his shoulder as you begin to fall apart in his arms. There it is, one of those grief stricken moments you swore you wouldn’t allow to take over you today. So much for holding it together.

Clearly your boyfriend doesn’t seem to mind though, and for that you’ll be eternally grateful. You let yourself go, let your emotions go, as he whispers affirmations in your ear. Softly shushing you and assuring you that it’s ok to let it all out. It’s almost scary how easy it is for you to do this as well. To let yourself be vulnerable like this. But honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way. If you’re going to fall apart in anyone’s arms, there’s no one better than Austin’s to do it in.

After a while of being wrapped up in the blonde’s arms and after your sobs begin to turn into soft hiccups, you feel collected enough to take a small step back and start to wipe away any remaining tears.

“I’m sorry, Aus,” you whisper, feeling a little bad for just falling apart like this. You know he doesn’t mind, he wouldn’t have taken the day off if he did, but even still.

“Hey, hey, hey, do not apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Austin reaches out and swipes his thumbs underneath your eyes, collecting tears that haven’t yet fallen. “I’m here for you, and if that means being a human tissue for the day then I’m fine with that.”

A small laugh bubbles out of your throat and the sound makes Austin smile. He loves your laugh and he’d do anything to hear it, especially on a day like this.

“I hope you know how much I appreciate you. I know you’re no stranger to grief when losing a loved one, but I still appreciate you taking this in stride and just being there for me. This day it’s-it’s-,” your breath catches in your throat, but you clear it, not wanting your emotions to take over again. “It’s hard, but you certainly make it a lot less difficult to deal with and for that I’m grateful.”

“Of course, baby. I’m here for you, always. When you lose someone you love, it’s difficult enough to deal with, yet alone trying to deal with it on your own. I promise you I’ll always be here for you on this day and every other one you may need me for as long as you’ll have me.”

A small smile breaks out on your lips and you don’t know a better response than wrapping your arms around Austin and squeezing him with all the love and appreciation you can muster. You can’t even imagine a day without him. You’ll have him forever if you’re able to.

Once the two of you break apart you watch as Austin begins to say something, but then appears to hesitate. His eyes meet yours and you start to wonder what it is he wants to say to you.

“Now I don’t ever want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable, but over the past couple days I’ve been thinking about what we could do to celebrate your brother today. If you’re okay with it, I’d like to take you somewhere.” The blonde takes a breath and then reaches for your hand, squeezing once before continuing. “You trust me, right?”

You’ve never felt more sure of anything than you do right now in this moment when you say, “Yes, with my whole heart.”

Your boyfriend smiles and you feel your stomach flutter with both gratitude and anticipation for what he has planned. No matter where it is he ends up taking you, you know with one hundred percent certainty that he’s doing it because he loves you and cares for you in a way you never even thought possible. That fact alone is what carries you out of that kitchen and through the front door.

*****

When Austin pulls the car into the parking lot of the flower shop connected to the cemetery your brother is buried in, you feel your heart begin to swell.

On the drive over, you began to brainstorm ideas of where it is your boyfriend was taking you. There was a small part of you that hoped he wasn’t driving you to some restaurant or your family’s house to try and take your mind off today, but that he was taking you right to this very place. In your mind, there’s no better way to celebrate and remember your brother than celebrating with him as much as you’re physically able to.

Not a lot of people find comfort in visiting a grave in a cemetery, but it’s one of the only ways you’re able to feel some sort of closeness to your brother. He might not be visible to you, but there’s something about sitting there and just talking out loud to him that allows you to feel some semblance of peace.

“Now I know everyone feels differently when it comes to visiting graves and doing stuff like this. So if you’re at all uncomfortable being here, you just let me know and I’ll turn this car around, we’ll go right back home, and I’ll apologize for the rest of my life for ever crossing any boundaries with you.”

A breathy laughs escapes you and you shake your head as you reach out and hold Austin’s hand in yours. “No, this is perfect. I very much appreciate you even thinking of doing this. I haven’t been able to come out here in a while, especially not alone, so I’m grateful you brought me here and that you’re willing to be by my side during it.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he smiles.

Austin turns off the car and the two of you make your way inside, the smell of fresh flowers instantly hitting your nose and you breath in deeply, wanting to hold onto it. It’s crazy to think there could be something so beautiful and alive surrounded by a place so sorrowful and morbid. Somehow, you think there’s something poetic to be found in that.

Both you and Austin wander around the shop for a while, taking in all the gorgeous arrangements decorated specifically for different types of family members. You see plaques for parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, and then finally siblings. It hurts your heart to know people lose their loved ones in a blink of an eye every day. No one is safe from the horrors and unfairness of the world, but you wish with everything you’ve got that they were.

You wish nearly every day that your brother had been.

As you walk further down the aisle, you find yourself getting stopped by a bouquet. It stands out from the others, it’s almost as if the colors and arrangement of it were calling out to you. One look at it and you know instantly it’s the one you’d like to get for your brother.

“Aus, this one’s perfect,” you say softly, stopping your boyfriend in his tracks. He looks over at it and smiles fondly. He thinks it’s perfect almost as much as you do.

Austin instantly grabs it and the two of you walk over to the checkout counter. You reach into your purse so you can grab your wallet, but the actor holds his hand out and shakes his head. “Let me, for his birthday.”

Tears immediately spring to your eyes at the sentiment and all you’re able to do in response is nod your head slightly and give Austin a wobbly smile. You don’t know why you’re so surprised over all of this. This is who Austin is, it’s who he always has been, and it’s who he always will be.

*****

The gravel road that winds every which way through the cemetery causes the car to shake just slightly as Austin follows your instructions to get to your brother’s grave. You’re not entirely convinced that’s the sole reason your stomach starts to knot though.

Even though it’s been a while since you’ve visited this place, the moment Austin pulled up to the gates it was like you were here just yesterday. The landmarks are all too familiar, the shapes of other people’s headstones, and the view of other grieving families scattered around bring everything back instantly.

As you look around and tell Austin to pull over to the right up ahead, you start to feel a little lightheaded. In your mind you can see the day you buried your brother so vividly. You can hear the sniffles of family and friends and feel the slight breeze in the air as he was lowered into the ground.

Even though you appreciate being able to still somewhat spend time with your brother here, it does make it all seem so much more real. When you don’t come and visit, sometimes you’re able to pretend that he’s still here, still alive. But the minute you see that headstone, you’re reminded that he’s not, and it gets harder to shake the sadness.

Austin puts the car in park and you both sit in silence for a moment. He watches you look out the window, knowing all too well the emotions running through you right now. He gives you a minute more before speaking up.

“Do you want me to wait in the car or is it okay to come with you?” His deep voice breaks you out of your thoughts and you blink several times before looking over at him.

“No, come with me, please? I-I want you there.” Austin nods his head and exits the car, coming over to the passenger side and helping you out of the car as you hold onto your brother’s bouquet.

Grass crunches under your shoes as you walk the few feet to your brother’s grave, and a soft gasp passes through your lips as you come face to face with the headstone that’s seared itself into your mind forever.

Kneeling down, you brush off the small bits of leaves and grass that’ve taken residence on the light gray stone. Your fingers trace over the letters imprinted within it and with each passing letter you feel your heart squeeze inside your chest.

It’s so unfair how life can change so drastically in an instant. You remember the last conversation you had with your brother and you wish you would’ve known that would be the last time you spoke to him. You would’ve said more, would’ve memorized more about his voice and the way he laughed. You would’ve held on to anything and everything you could if it meant keeping even one more tiny thing of him close to you.

Lifting up the bouquet in front of you, you make sure everything in it looks perfect before placing it by the headstone and then standing back up by your boyfriend. The flowers look beautiful and you hate that you can’t physically give them to your brother on his special day. You just hope he’s somewhere looking down at you and seeing how loved he still is. How he’ll always be celebrated.

Suddenly, you feel Austin softly place his hand on your lower back and begin to rub circles on it. This is something he often does when he can tell you’re sad or getting overwhelmed and just need some sort of comfort. It always helps calm you down and you appreciate Austin doing it in this moment.

Austin truly cares so much for you and it blows your mind every single day how lucky you are to have someone like him in your life. Everything from the grand gestures to the smallest little things he does for you, you find yourself being so grateful for it all. He’s such a wonderful guy and you smile thinking about how well he would’ve gotten along with your brother.

You know instantly your brother would’ve adored him. He’d definitely try to play the protective brother card and give off the impression he’d never approve, but in your heart you know Austin would’ve had him wrapped around his finger, much like how he has you. You could see them hanging out and watching sports together, talking about music and films, and overall finding such a genuine friendship within each other.

The thought brings a smile to your face and you let out a small laugh thinking about all the chaos they’d get up to together.

Austin notices and his own curious smile adorns his lips as he wonders what you could possibly be thinking about. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“I know you never got to meet him,” you start, a small tear trailing down your cheek as you take your eyes off the headstone in front of you and look towards your boyfriend. “But he’d really like you.”

A small puff of air leaves Austin as he takes in your words. In an instant he has you wrapped in his arms and his lips pressed against your forehead. “Oh, baby. I wish with all my heart I could’ve met him.”

You nod your head silently against him, knowing with everything you’ve got that he genuinely means it.

“Thank you for bringing me here, Aus,” you whisper, your words a soft rumble against the blonde’s chest. “You have no idea how much this means to me. I appreciate it so much.”

“You don’t have to thank me, but you’re welcome. I’d do practically anything for you—especially this—and especially today.”

You know Austin’s unfortunately no stranger to grief. He knows the pain of losing a loved one just as much as you do and you think it’s so kind of him to do all of this with you when you know it probably puts him back in his own memories of loss. The thought alone makes you squeeze him a little harder and plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “I love you, Austin.”

“I love you too,” he smiles. “Y’know if you wanna do this every year for your brother’s birthday, we definitely can. If you want to, that is. I know it’ll never change the fact he’s no longer with us, but maybe celebrating him like this and coming to leave some flowers at his grave every year can help you feel a little bit closer to him in a way.”

“Yeah, I’d really love that. I think he would too.” You smile up at your boyfriend and take in his thoughtful proposition. You’d love to come visit your brother’s grave like this for his birthday every year. Like Austin said, it’ll never change the fact he’s not here with you anymore, but at least it gives you something to hold onto. It gives you something to keep your brother just a little bit closer to you, and you’d do anything to make that happen.

“It’s a deal then,” Austin says before leaning down and kissing you on the forehead. After pulling away he crouches down and plants himself on the grass. “C’mon, no more birthday blues. Let’s sit for a while. I’d love for you to tell me more about your brother.”

Your heart soars at his interest. Most people would want to flee this situation. Get as far away from a place like this and ignore the fact someone’s passed on completely. Not Austin. He faces it head first. He knows it’s hard, but he also knows it can be healing to do and it can mean a lot to someone too. He can tell by the look on your face he’s made the right call, and he’s grateful he’s able to be here for you in whatever way you need him.

“Well, where do I begin?” You wonder as you sit down next to the blonde. You rack your brain and try to decide on what story or fun fact you should share first. God knows you have an endless supply of them tucked away in your memory. Some funny, some sad, and some downright disturbing in the best way possible.

You glance over at Austin, settling on one and as you go to start sharing one of your favorite memories of your brother, you watch as your boyfriend completely tunes in to whatever it is you’re about to say. Nothing else seems to matter in this moment to him and that alone makes you want to wrap your arms around him and never let go.

Yeah, you think in your head, in a way speaking to your brother. You definitely would’ve liked him.